Must You Scare Me?
by ArrestingRain
Summary: The group has made it to Neverland-Snow, Charming, Hook, Emma, Regina, and Rumplestiltskin. After aimlessly searching for Henry, they finally get direction of where to look. They split off into pairs, leading to Hook and Emma searching together for clues of the lost boys. Of course, there is always something deadly to be encountered in Neverland.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I've written a bit, but I just started publishing/posting some of stuff today. So please don't judge too harshly, haha. ****Reviews would be much appreciated because I always want to improve my work. Thanks :) ****Disclaimer, I don't own Once Upon a Time. **

* * *

Killian scanned the dense Neverwoods looking for any signs of the lost boys. The search for Henry was pushing on three months, but they couldn't be certain. Time in Neverland worked differently than most realms, but Killian was fairly accustomed to the differences and was almost certain it was three months. Three _intense_ months. They had barely any leads throughout the time, mostly going off vague guesses that the Crocodile's magic could give them and discovering unhelpful abandoned camps. It was a wild goose chase.

That is, up until recently. They finally discovered a solid lead. The Picanny tribe, after a brief and terrible misunderstanding, guided them towards an area on the vast island. It wasn't as precise as one would hope, but it was definitely something to lift their spirits on the desolate journey so far.

With the direction from the Picanny tribe, they headed out towards that part of the island and laid anchor. The crew split into groups—Charming and the Crocodile and, much to Charming's chagrin, Killian and Emma all went off onto the island to find any leads. The Evil Queen and Snow begrudgingly remained on the _Jolly Roger_ to guard it. Somehow they had come to the conclusion that those groups were for the best. Who exactly figured that out and who exactly thought those were the best pairings, Killian couldn't say.

Killian continued looking for signs of the lost boys, looking amongst the trees and bushes as well as the ground and sky. Emma was also looking for anything in another part of the woodland, in a space not far off from where he was. Over the three months that they'd been in Neverland, Emma had proven her worth quite nicely. Killian had enough confidence in her to not be standing next to her 24/7.

He was just about to inspect a suspicious spot on the ground when he heard a loud, terrified scream that echoed hauntingly throughout the trees.

"EMMA!"

Killian instantly broke into a sprint in the direction he knew Emma's scream came from. Blood rushed through his ears as he panicked; no further sounds came to indicate she was alive. He shouldn't have left her alone. He should have stayed by her side.

The lost boys could have gotten to her. They could have jumped her, gagged her—_killed_ her.

_ No._ He wouldn't let Emma Swan die.

He rushed through the woods, disregarding any branches that slapped against him as he barreled through the trees; his heart was rapidly beating in his chest, threatening to reach exhaustion and stop altogether. He skirted to a stop, coming upon the edge of a small cliff. The adrenaline pumped through him and he glanced around, worried that he'd been too late. _Scared _that he'd been too late.

Then he caught a glimpse of her and found himself almost doubling over with laughter, perhaps because of slight hysteria.

"Well, love, I see you fancied a swim!" Killian called out to Emma between breaths as he tried to catch his breath. She shot him a glare as she treaded water in the center of the small bay. She was perfectly alive and well, if not irritated and a little wet. Killian felt himself relax, his tense muscles slumping. Relief, in a ridiculous quantity, spread throughout him.

"Ha ha," she said humorlessly, "very funny."

"And here I thought you were getting attacked," Killian said, his chuckling finally subsiding.

"I tripped…but I'd almost swear something pushed me," Emma huffed. He could see her pout from all the way on the cliff top and he couldn't help but chuckle again. Captain Hook didn't describe anything as cute but, dare he say, Emma Swan, jutting out her bottom lip and crinkling her eyebrows, was _cute_.

"Wouldn't doubt it, love. Neverland can be quite mischievous," Killian said with a smile. Then he added, sobering up a bit, "Best not to linger in the water too long, though. Can never be too sure what creatures will decide to show up."

Killian knew the water had many bad qualities in Neverland. Many were not to be reckoned with. Though he didn't think she was in any immediate danger, he didn't want to chance any dangers by unnecessarily loitering.

"Swim to the shore there, kitten," Killian instructed, "I'll come around the edge."

"Aw, you don't want to join me?" Emma teased, but she already began swimming to the rocky shore. Killian smiled—their relationship had progressed so much from the start of the journey. He snaked his way past some of her barriers and vice versa, much to his disdain at first. Of course, he wasn't naïve enough to believe that they'd breached all of each other's defenses. Their banter and challenges of wits were the highlights of this journey, though he could only begrudgingly admit it to himself when he thought about it late at night. _Gods_, he didn't even like to admit it to even himself, but this woman was beginning to mean a whole lot more to him than simply being a part of something.

"I'd be delighted to join you if you lost a few garments," Killian mused.

She shot him a glare over her shoulder but didn't dignify it with any further response. He chuckled to himself again and began to trek his way to the shore, shaking his head slightly. Jumping in was quite tempting, actually. The heat in Neverland was unbearable.

He had to veer away from the cliff edge and weave his way through the trees. He did think Emma was capable to take care of herself, but that scare still shook him. He would not be responsible for the death of Emma Swan. It would kill him if she died and there was something he could have done had he been right next to her. It had been a very long time since he had held himself accountable for another's life, and he wasn't really sure how he felt about the sudden admission. He didn't hate it even if it was a somewhat disturbing thought.

The Neverland heat was getting to him, though, and he finally stripped himself of his shirt. He'd gradually lost his layers throughout the day, the heat bearing down on him insufferably. The humidity was growing worse and worse throughout the day and his usual leather pirate attire that he donned was not recommended _at all_. A thunderstorm would actually be relief at this point, but it could potentially wash away any clues that would lead them to Swan's boy. With that in mind, Killian watched the skies, hoping for the sake of the boy and Swan that the storm would either dissipate completely or remain at bay until they had thoroughly checked the area.

Finally, Killian made his way to the shore. Killian smiled to himself, thinking of a drenched Swan. Oh, the comments he could make. She'd reprimand him, but that was the fun of it. That was part of their banter; he'd say something inappropriate and she'd pretend that it bothered her. Yes, he thought, she would _pretend_ that it bothered her. He'd seen some of the small, involuntary smiles that she tried to hide.

She had seemed in a good mood despite the fall. The clue from the tribe had definitely lifted her fallen spirits at least a tad. Otherwise, for a great deal of the journey, she had been understandably frustrated and angry at their lack of progress in finding her boy.

Anything he planned to say to her at the moment fell short, though. His mouth went dry and his lips were silent of any innuendo.

He glanced around the small clearing only to find it bare.

"Emma," he called out. He went to the shoreline to inspect. There was no indication of her getting out of the water at all; nothing to even show she made it to land. He instinctively looked to the water and to his dismay it was eerily still.

Everything seemed _too_ calm and _too_ quiet. The birds and creatures of Neverland stopped their noise as well, no chirping to be heard. The only sound was the slight breeze that ruffled a few leaves. Killian dropped his clothes to the ground, his worry building with every second that passed. Quickly, he went into a defensive stance, hand drawing his sword.

"Emma?" Killian inquired again, concern laced in his voice, a strong edge there as well; a warning. There was a feeling that _something_ was wrong, and it was a feeling that he had developed from his many previous years of dealing with Neverland's perils. He stood, slowly circling by the shore with his sword and hook at the ready.

Then the sound reached his ears. It was so faint; he almost thought he imagined it. The majestic giggles and enchanting singing echoed from far away, somewhere that seemed so distant.

"Emma!"

Killian dropped the sword and went to the water, diving into its depths without hesitation. The fear for Emma's life he felt before returned with an abrupt and deliberate force.

Underneath the water, Killian could hear their song plain as day. He followed its source knowing that he would find Emma wherever they were. He cursed his hook; his lack of hand made him slower than he would have liked, every vital second passing him by.

Bloody mermaids resided on the other side of the island! He hadn't even really considered them when Emma had fallen into the bay. _What in the bloody hell were they doing there?_

Killian couldn't see a damn thing in the dark waters, which were so unlike the rest of Neverland's crystalline waters; which was why the mermaids should not have been there. They were sinfully vain creatures. They needed men to ogle at them and always be able to see their beauty. That's why they _never_ ventured into the dark bays. They couldn't be adored if they couldn't be seen.

He had to resurface, he had to get air.

As soon as he went up and gulped in a quick breath, he was back under the water swimming to save Emma. Fear clawed at him as he realized how long Emma must have been submerged, how long the mermaids had kept her beneath the surface, playing their cruel games.

He swam with a new vigor, death laughing hysterically at his attempts to foil its plans to take his golden haired princess. Though, it wasn't death's laughter that Killian literarily heard. It was the mermaid's hysterical cackling that pounded in his ear drums, getting louder and louder.

"Is that your whore, Captain?" A mermaid taunted in his ear, startling him, but he didn't veer off course. He despised mermaids from the very depths of his being; he was never even allowed the dignity of responding to their horribly spoken taunts and threats. It fueled his anger even more, them calling Emma a whore. Emma was better than a whore and deserved respect. But Killian's thoughts weren't on the disrespect they were showing Emma but rather the fact that her life was very well in danger. The mermaid cackled in his ear again, continuing to swim along with him.

"You've been gone from these seas for a _long_ time, Hook," the mermaid said. He ignored her as she continued to talk to him, unable to respond either way. She taunted him with cruel words, fueling his anger.

Miraculously, Killian caught sight of Emma in the murky waters. Two mermaids were tugging her further and further from the distant surface—further into the abyss. Pure panic rushed through him, propelling him faster in the water. He needed to get to her.

When he finally reached them, Killian's chest was tightening painfully. He couldn't last much longer without another breath of oxygen.

Killian reached out and grabbed Emma's arm, attempting to pull her from the mermaids' murderous grasps. They just yanked both Emma and Killian down with them, laughing maliciously while doing it. Killian fought against the mermaids' pull, but he didn't know how much longer he could fight his burning lungs.

Abruptly and disconcertingly, the mermaids stopped their descent in the water and allowed Killian to haul Emma into his arms. He didn't have to time to wonder why the mermaids suddenly let them go. He swam as fast as he could with Emma in his arm and a hook for a hand, heading towards where he knew oxygen waited for them. He felt sick at her limp body and her lack of consciousness. She was completely dead weight and Killian didn't feel comforted by that description at all.

A mermaid suddenly pulled his ankle and yanked him further from the surface and he weakly kicked out. After a few seconds, he was released and started swimming again.

The mermaids grabbed him again, pulling him deeper. Pulling Emma away from safety. They released him, one again allowing him to _attempt_ to get closer to the surface.

He growled in frustration, black spots starting to appear in his vision. They were toying with him! They all continued to swim around him, erupting with evil and devious laughter, their cackling sickening him to his core.

After it happened a third time, he finally loosely let go of Emma to slash at a mermaid with his hook, knowing that if he continued on the way he was going about it, they'd just keep playing their deadly game until he drowned.

All the mermaids' laughter stopped and they screeched in anger as his hook met a mermaid.

The mermaid hissed in pain and then went for Emma in retaliation instead of attacking Killian like he'd expected. Horrified, Killian quickly snatched Emma away from the injured mermaid. All the mermaids swarmed around them, but they all seemed intent on Emma. He tried to yell, momentarily forgetting he was underwater. They were attacking fiercely with claws and fins. They couldn't have Emma again! It was a flurry of mermaid bodies and all Killian could do was hold on to Emma and try to swat them away the best he could with his hook.

Abruptly, the mermaids stopped all their attacks and started swimming away, back towards the clear waters of Neverland. Killian desperately needed a breath of fresh air, his head was pounding and his chest was burning him alive. Surprisingly, the creatures allowed him to swim towards the surface and he kept expecting interference but it never came.

Just before he broke the surface, a mermaid swam next to him and hissed menacingly in his ear, "You can take her. We don't like to play with dead things, anyways."

His blood went cold and he felt himself drain and go pale at her words. He broke to the surface, hauling Emma up with him. He was helpless to his gasps for air, unable to control his greedy intake of breath. His head felt less light and his chest didn't burn as much, but he couldn't deny that his chest seemed to hurt because Emma remained limp and motionless even with her head above water.

"Em—Emma," Killian coughed out. "Come on, love." He swam to shore as quickly as he could manage, taking note of her blue lips and her pale, drained, and lifeless face.

He shoved her on land and fumbled around her neck, looking for a pulse as he bent his head next to her mouth, trying to listen for any slight breath. His chest tightened painfully when he couldn't feel anything.

"Come on, Emma," Killian growled. Immediately he began pushing on her chest. Emma Swan was not going to die in Neverland. He bent down, plugged her nose, and blew his breath into her unresponsive mouth. Emma Swan would not die at all.

Still no movement.

He began pushing on her chest again and cursed his hook for the second time in a day. His bloody hook was making it difficult to save this amazing woman's life.

"You're not going to die," Killian hissed. "I'm not going to _let_ you die."

_No. No. No. This cannot be happ_—

He repeated his ministrations again, refusing to give up on her.

"_Come on, Emma_!" He yelled his anger and frustration overwhelming him, shaking his voice.

He refused to accept her as gone.

* * *

Emma didn't like the fact that the blissfully happy and bright place she was in seemed to be slowly slipping away. She was annoyed by the fact that she was being ripped away from the pleasant place. Something was pulling her away from it, that she knew. She tried to cling to her surroundings, fighting the pull. A dull pressure slowly built in her chest.

Emma didn't want to leave wherever she was and became increasingly irritated as the insistent pressure in her chest continued. Wherever she was, it was nice. The place was warm and very welcoming, beckoning her to delve further into its comfort. Of course, something didn't seem right, but with all the content feelings around her, she couldn't bring herself to care. She couldn't bring herself to acknowledge that fact that she felt like she had something important to do.

She became acutely aware of the pressure in her chest as it continued to grow more and more. She tried to ignore the pull, but it was aggravatingly persistent. Whatever this pressure was, it was trying to summon Emma away from the place's welcoming embrace. All she knew for certain was that it was good here, wherever here was, and that she was content and worry free. Somehow she knew that wherever the pressure wanted to take her, there would be pain. She really didn't want to go.

Her misgivings were pointless, though.

In an abrupt moment, consciousness and reality crashed into her painfully, shattering the pleasant visage she had been enjoying. The dull pressure on her chest turned into brutal pain and immediately she started coughing and spewing up water as it tried to escape her lungs. Why there was water in her lungs in the first place, she had no idea. She was gagging on nothing and everything at the same time as she fought to replace the water in her lungs with air.

Emma rolled onto her side, desperately trying to avoid drowning again in her own spit up. She was vaguely aware of something touching her and rolling onto something as she struggled with her lungs. All she could afford to focus on at the moment was getting water out and air back in.

Her ears didn't even register the voice trying to talk to her, trying to soothe her. Her body didn't even register the hand that aided heavily in holding her on her side, and without it, she'd be a crumpled mess. She was too weak to recognize any of that.

After a continuous violent coughing spree that rid her body of the water she had inhaled, Emma finally found herself gasping for air. She was finally able to breathe in some refreshing oxygen, which actually almost stung as much as the water as the air scratched at her throat. She still felt horribly lightheaded and despairingly weak. Everything hurt as her body ached with scratches and bruises that she had no idea of.

What scared Emma further than her vulnerability and weakness was her disorientation. She tried to recall where she was and what had happened, but all she could remember was having gone onto the island with Killian. A sudden panic washed through her.

"_Killian?"_ She rasped out desperately, her worried voice cracking. "Ki—Killian!"

Was he hurt? Had he been abducted? Had _she_ been abducted? Was she alone? Was he hurt worse than her? Were they attacked by the lost boys? Were they still in immediate danger? Was he—was he dead?

She tried to shove herself off the ground in case of an imminent attack. She needed to get to Killian, wherever and however he might be. It felt as if something coiled and squeezed around her heart at the thought of Killian being dead or mortally wounded. She _needed_ to get to him.

Something physically held her down. Something was stopping her besides her own weakness and denied her attempts of getting up. She struggled, panicked that she'd been captured.

"Emma!" Finally Killian's voice broke through her haze and panic, and his voice registered in her brain. Though, he'd been yelling at her since before consciousness claimed her again. Her heart was still racing, though, she calmed slightly at his voice, the affirmation that he was indeed alive. Emma ceased her struggling and relaxed.

"Emma," Killian said again, "Swan, look at me."

She still felt too weak, though.

"Emma, _look_ at me," he commanded.

With his demanding voice, Emma finally mustered enough energy to open her eyes. Squinting up, she discovered Killian crouched over her. His face was concentrated with some type of emotion but she was too dazed to identify it. He was dripping wet, droplets sliding down his face from his hair and falling onto Emma. She felt an insane amount of relief at discovering that Hook was okay and that he seemed well. A feeling that was akin to the place where she had been while unconscious finally sunk into her; she became very relaxed and content.

Then he was talking to her and she almost didn't register his voice again. "Emma, can you hear me?"

It was too much effort to talk and too much strain to keep her eyes open, so they slowly closed of their own accord. She nodded in reply, murmuring acknowledgement low in her throat. She was content enough knowing he was alive, she started to fade off to the sleepiness that was beckoning her.

"Emma, you can't shut your eyes," Killian said in a soothing voice, but there was an undertone of urgency that still remained. "Emma. Come on, Emma."

His hand gently rubbed her cheek and patted it, forcing her to remain conscious.

"Hey, Emma, come on. I'm going to get you back to the ship. You need to stay awake, though, love."

Emma blinked a few times, squinting up into his face. Somehow his face gave her some form of newfound motivation, and she had some grasp on reality. She murmured in agreement, "Okay."

* * *

Killian was slightly comforted by her agreement to remain awake, but it was far from what he needed to calm his rapidly beating heart. With her final acknowledgement, he was encouraged enough to pick her up, pulling her against his chest bridal style. He needed to get her to the ship immediately because the mermaid venom that was in her veins wouldn't have much mercy in an hour's time.


	2. Chapter 2

Killian focused on the tip of his hook as he slowly ground it into the wood of his desk. There was many a mark from his hook like that; all of them slow, impatient, meticulous marks. It was a method he had developed to restrain himself from becoming violent and to ease his restless, busy mind. Many times when he was strategizing or fuming about one thing or another, he'd sit at his desk and place the tip of his hook onto its wood, which had been previously magnificent before he had obtained the hook, and he'd slowly ground it out, gouging holes into it. Depending on each situation and how troubled his mind was, each hole differed in size. Some people paced, some tapped their feet, while others tapped their fingernails. Killian Jones had a hook and a desk.

He sat at his desk, waiting for a troublesome blonde to regain consciousness. She could remain out for several more hours, perhaps even days; there was no way of knowing exactly how long it'd be. Killian glanced at Emma, her pale face slack and the rest of her looking as if she were on her death bed. She still appeared like a drowned kitten even though Snow had gotten her out of her wet clothes. He scowled at himself, angry that she was in that state. Instead of attacking _something_ like he wanted to, he dug his hook further into the wood, trying his damnedest to puncture the inflation of guilt and fear that grew quickly inside of him. It was to no avail. It just continued to grow continuously with every thought, every glance, and every memory. Everything kindled his guilt fire. The memory didn't only inspire guilt, but fear. He could remember it so very clearly.

He'd quickly raced to the ship, praying to the gods that he'd meet no interference or attack by the Lost Boys. He must have struck some cord of luck, for he'd made it to the _Jolly Roger _with little difficulty beside the fact that he was running, with a woman dying in his arms. Of course, he couldn't consider any part of the situation lucky because no matter what happened, he still held a dying Emma. She was very close to leaving him; he had to constantly jostle her and persuade her to keep her eyes open, knowing that if she slipped back into unconsciousness, she might not ever return.

Waiting on the ship was a disgruntled pair, Snow and the Evil Queen. He could hear them bickering, throwing snide comments at each other before he even reached the ocean's shoreline. Their voices were loud and carried over the silent woodland. Had he been in a different situation, he would have chastised them for drawing attention to them. Yelling at the Evil Queen and Snow for being childish was the last thing on his mind. He had a slowly fading Emma in his arms that he needed to take care of.

Killian knew that they weren't scheduled to rendezvous for hours yet and that the pair on the ship would sense something was wrong. They continued bickering until Killian came into their view. They talked amongst each other, probably wondering why they were back so early. He wasn't concerned or even paying attention to them, just rushing to the boat that would take him to the ship. Once they noticed the disorientated blonde in his arms, though, they ceased conversation altogether.

"Oh my God, Emma!" Snow screeched in fear; the sound of her terrified voice had made the hairs on Killian's neck stand on end. He couldn't focus on it though, ignoring anything that would delay him as he tried to get Emma to the ship. He had shoved into the longboat, ready to paddle as fast as he could up to the ship. As he was about to row, the boat had suddenly lurched forward, sailing him across the water, saving him from the task. He had glanced up to see the Evil Queen focused on the boat with a hand outstretched.

It was with great difficulty that he managed to get up the Jacobs ladder, but he hauled her up onto the ship as fast as he could with only one hand.

Snow had proceeded to yell hysterically—a lot. Killian didn't even throw any answers out, just rushed to his cabin, lying Emma's frail and damaged body on the bed. He blurted out instructions to Snow to keep Emma awake before turning to the other side of the cabin. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he scarcely even heard his own fearful thoughts as he searched through his cabinets, looking for the antidote to the mermaid's venom. He broke a few things during his search, but paid little attention to any of it.

"What happened?" Snow asked once again as tears formed in her eyes, her voice raising a few octaves as she focused on keeping Emma awake.

He frantically searched through everything on the shelves; he answered curtly and absentmindedly, "Mermaids got to her."

Snow must have gotten the message that he couldn't focus on the conversation and didn't want to talk because she didn't push him for any more of an explanation. She just remained by Emma's side, lightly tapping her face, talking to her as Emma mumbled nonsense.

At last he found the bottle with the antidote and he ran to Emma's side. Snow stepped aside, letting him beside her.

"Emma, you have to drink this," he cooed against her, brushing hair out of her face with his hand, trying not to scare her in her disorientation.

"I don't want rum," she mumbled, meekly trying to push him away. He let out a breathy chuckle, unable to stop himself. Only Emma Swan would accuse a man of trying to intoxicate her while they were trying to save her life. Snow cried, hysterically urging Emma to drink it, not knowing what it was for, but assuming it was to make her daughter better. Killian didn't fall into hysteria, knowing that was no way to approach someone who was confused and disorientated.

"It's not rum, darling. It's going to help you feel better."

"Like NyQuil?"

"Yes, like NyQuil," Killian agreed smoothly, throwing a confused side glance at Snow. He had no idea what the bloody hell_ NyQuil _was, but he'd agree to anything this woman said to get her to drink the antidote. Normally he found her stubborn tendencies almost enduring, a charm to the bracelet that was her character, but at the moment he found it frustrating.

She begrudgingly drank it then, like a child who didn't want to drink their milk. Killian poured more and more down her throat, even as she protested and almost gagged. He urged her to hold it down even though the antidote wasn't the most enticing drink. He made absolutely certain that she had more than enough to cure her. He'd waste his whole damn supply just to see that this woman would live.

After consuming the antidote and trying to ask nonsense questions, she fell into unconsciousness once again, which he knew would happen. The first time he had used the cure he'd thought it hadn't worked when his crew member's eyes rolled back into his head and he was out cold. Hours later, the man had awoken to his relief. That was the case for everyone who used the antidote after that. It varied from man to man, and in Emma's case _woman_, how long it'd take the antidote to take effect; some'd take minutes, some'd take hours, sometimes even_ days_. In the end, each was cured.

It was just a matter of waiting from that point on; waiting to see if she would regain consciousness. She _should_ wake up, she _should_ be fine, but Killian had never dealt with anyone who had been so close to death despite the mermaid's venom-when his men were infected with the poison, that was _all_ that was wrong with them.

That's how he ended up studying the tip of his hook.

Snow was by her daughter's side, worried to death and looking as if she'd been the one who was poisoned with mermaid venom. The Evil Queen had returned above deck to keep watch and make sure the Crocodile and Charming returned to the ship safely. Killian sat at his desk, absolutely fuming as he watched his hook. The hook's tip was still insanely sharp, despite his continuous grounding of it. He watched as it cut into the wood, as it shaved off layers. This hole was by far the deepest he had ever gouged, even deeper than his days of revenge. It was almost cliche, but these holes seemed so much deeper because they dug so deep that it punctured his heart.

He let Emma get into danger. She could have died—she could _still_ die. He was supposed to be their guide, their handbook on Neverland,_ her_ protector. He was supposed to protect her from any harm. By neglecting to observe a situation, he'd let her down. Emma was hurt and in pain because of him; she was fighting death's summon because of him. Despite the fact that she could take care of herself, she wasn't accustomed to facing down monstrous creatures. She was used to humans and sleezeballs; not magical creatures and their malicious trickery. He knew that, should have realized that, should have taken more precautions. She deserved so much more of him. Despite having been on the island for three months, he shouldn't have slackened his attentiveness and worries.

It didn't matter that the mermaids were known to _never_ venture into the dark bays. It didn't matter that he was merely 30 meters away as she swam back to shore. It didn't matter that he risked his neck to save her. It didn't matter that he did everything he could. None of that mattered. He should have done _more_.

Suddenly, distant noises could be heard. Footsteps to be precise.

"_What _happened to Emma?" Charming yelled, presumably at Regina. Charming's misguided and angry voice could be heard from below deck as if he were standing right in Killian's cabin.

Both Snow and Killian looked up, eyes going from the ceiling to look expectantly at the door, both knowing that the prince would soon come barging in. Snow looked worried, but Killian looked up wearily. The protective daddy was about to come. That persona rubbed Killian in the wrong way—it seemed just a tad hypocritical in Killian's opinion; that man can send Emma to another realm when she's merely a babe fresh in the world but gods be damned if another man throws an i_nnocent_ flirtatious remark at her.

Loudly Charming barreled down the stairs in the most ungraceful and uncaring manner. Regina must have told him what happened to Emma, or at least informed him that she wasn't in the best condition. Not moments later, the doors flew open and Charming was bursting in, looking ragged and worn-and fearful like a broken man.

"Where's Emma?" The anxiety in his voice was palpable, his eyes going from Killian to Snow to his daughter. Immediately, Snow jumped to her feet, stepping in front of Emma, not protectively like she was worried what Charming would do, but as if to block Charming's view and shield him from the unwanted sight. She didn't want Charming to see the weak body that was his daughter. She wanted to spare him the grief and heartache that she (and Killian) had to endure

"David," Snow began, putting her hand up to Charming's chest, stopping him from advancing any further, "She's going to be fine."

Charming only spared her a glance, a moment's consideration of her words before he continued on his path. He looked past Snow and saw Emma's fragile body, and despite Snow's assurance that Emma would be fine, his face fell.

"Emma," Charming choked out, rushing towards Emma. All Killian's annoyance with Charming's overprotectiveness drained as his eyes landed on Emma once again, reminding him of what Charming was trying to protect; of what Killian had _failed_ to protect. Killian watched with a heavy and guilty heart as Charming knelt next to Emma. Snow, despite feeling her own fear and unease, stepped up and placed a soothing hand on Charming's shoulder to provide what little comfort she could. Each was a stone when the other wavered.

Though Killian had felt included in the group during their trip, he felt like he was intruding in an intimate moment, a moment he shouldn't be a part of. He watched for a few moments longer, the guilt building inside him as he saw the pain it caused Charming and Snow. He couldn't bare it anymore; he left the room, seeking the deck and his helm for some little semblance of his own comfort. He needed his own stone which was his ship that had endured with him through his 300 years. He wasn't in denial, though-he would only relax and be relieved when his blonde beauty woke up and was throwing sarcastic remarks at him.

The Evil Queen and the Crocodile remained on the deck, much to Killian's dismay. He emerged from below and they both ceased their chatter, eyes turning toward Killian—Regina's eyes didn't hold anything in them besides slight annoyance, but the Crocodile's eyes had the darkness of man who thought he was looking at the lowest scum that crawled the Earth. He shot a glare at the crocodile, but did nothing else.

Besides their stares, they left him to his own thoughts as he made his way to the helm. Killian tried to ease his mind and worries as he looked out to the densely wooded island and porcelain blue skies, but all it served was to anger him further—the picturesque scene was mocking him. It tried to deceive one into believing that happiness could be found in it's luscious woods, beautiful trees, and inviting beaches-but it was only pain that could be found. Pan and his island were mocking them all, but they targeted Killian in particular. They mocked him the worst by never failing to reveal his inadequacies.

Killian's eyes eventually drifted down to the waters—the clear, crystalline waters. The water was so vibrant with the marine life you could see below its depths. It was so easy to see the life that prospered beneath the surface._ These_ were the waters where the mermaids were _supposed_ to be. It was so very strange that mermaids were in the bay. Behaviors had always been something Killian could catch on to and evaluate; behaviors always stayed the same, behaviors were a constant, behaviors were something you could rely on. _Why would the vain things be in a place that hid them?_ They were attention seekers; praise of their beauty is what fed them. Despite the dark waters matching their personality, Killian couldn't think of anything that connected the two. His mind jumped from theory to theory as he tried to discern the reason for mermaids' uncharacteristic behavior. He became more frustrated by the second.

Only an hour passed before Charming emerged from below decks and was at the helm before Killian.

"What happened to my daughter?" Charming demanded, his stance meant to be threatening. He was red in the face with anger—surely covering up the amount of terror he felt that his only daughter had almost died.

"She was attacked by mermaids," Killian answered with a glare. He may feel guilty, but pride was one of his choice sins and he would not be bullied by Prince _bloody_ Charming.

"_How_ was she attacked by mermaids? Weren't you with her?" Charming questioned again.

Killian wasn't in the mood to be berated, he wasn't in the mood to share intimate details. He did feel bad for the prince, even understood where his hotheaded actions were coming from, but Killian had his own things to work through. He quickly spat out the bare minimum of the story of the day's events, sparing Charming the details.

"We were searching the woods for clues and she fell into the bay. To make it to the shoreline to meet her, I had to cut back into the woods and when I got there she was gone. I dove in and retrieved her and the mermaids poisoned her as I was getting her out," Killian relayed. Of course, he left out the parts of the flirting, the heart-wrenching fear, the feeling of her cold lifeless body, the fight with death's grip, all the pain.

"You didn't think to warn her about the mermaids?" Charming hissed, advancing towards the pirate.

"I thought there was no need," Killian said with narrowed eyes, growing more insulted by Charming by the second. He was already buried with his self-loathing; he didn't need this as well.

"No need? She almost died and you thought there was _no need_ to tell her?" Charming said in an outrage.

"I know! I _know_ she almost died! I am painfully aware that we almost lost her!" Killian bellowed, walking towards the railing of the ship, avoiding Charming's eyes. Killian didn't like to show anyone that he was affected by anything, but bloody hell, he was more than _affected_ by Emma. "The bloody mermaids stay out in these open waters. They are known to never go in the dark bays. And I mean _never_. They are vain and live off of men's affections. They don't go to places where their beauty is hidden. _That's_ why I felt like there was no need."

He gripped the railing hard releasing some of his rage as he stared out to the sea and hissed to himself, "_It makes no bloody sense_."

Charming came up beside him on the railing, gripping the railing similarly to Killian, his eyes staring out towards the sea. An acceptable silence lingered between them, but Killian was burning waiting to hear Charming's reaction. The man had every right to remain angry, to hate his bloody guts. Killian had the exact same feelings. Charming let out a broken sigh.

"I…I just don't know what I'd do if we lost her," Charming finally said.

Killian thought silently _Me Either_.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Well, I am so very sorry about the horrible updating habits. I only write when inspired, though, and can't promise too much. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter. Thank you to all who have read it.**_

* * *

It was definitely strange.

Despite the massive mind-searing headache, despite the horrible nausea, despite the soreness in her body that was comparable to being _plowed over by a truck_, despite cuts that stung her body; despite_ all_ that, the first thing Emma thought when she woke up was _Why am I in Killian's bed?_ She was sore, had the symptoms of the worst hangover in the history of ever, and had no recollection whatsoever of how she had gotten there.

Definitely strange indeed.

Perhaps she shouldn't be asking _why_ but rather _how_ she had gotten into his bed. As she thought about it further, she decided that it would be helpful to get the answers for both those questions. She wracked her brain trying to remember why she was there; trying to remember why she hurt so damn much. It physically _hurt_ as she tried to push her mind to remember the circumstances. She could recall heading out to search the woods with Killian—after that all she could strain to remember was water, lots of water, and Killian dripping over her. She could honestly say that that wasn't the worse thing she could remember, but she couldn't remember for the life of her _why_ he had been dripping over her. She stopped straining her brain, her head hurting so much from the effort; it was like running repeatedly into a brick wall. Why was her head so hurtful?

Of course, all her aches and pains were too much to be accounted for by a hangover and the aftereffects of an…enjoyable night. Her eyes widened at her own thoughts—why would she choose to describe a night of sex with Killian enjoyable instead of just calling it a night of sex?

_Because it would be more than enjoyable with Killian_ her thoughts yelled at her.

A quieter voice answered _Touché_.

The pounding in her head increased painfully and ceased all thoughts that were traveling through her brain. She groaned out in pain, shutting her eyes as they stung. Her body was stiff as a board; she needed to stretch, flex her muscles. She tried to sit up—she needed get out of there. Her thoughts had been light-hearted for the most part since she had woke up in pain—which was very uncharacteristic for her to be sure, usually she'd be freaking out about how she had gotten in that state—but now she started to panic.

She couldn't move. Her body was not cooperating, wasn't listening to her. She found it suddenly hard to breathe. She needed to move, everything was closing in on her. Her eyes flicked around frantically, anxiety taking over her. She couldn't move. _Why couldn't she move?_

"_He—_" She tried calling out, her voice was hoarse and rough like it was traveling past sandpaper. "_Help_."

When she managed to get the word out, it came out barely louder than a whisper, her voice so dry.

"_Is—is someone there?_" She attempted to say, the panic starting to crush her, absorbing her heart and making her chest tighten in pain. Not only was she paralyzed, but she could be the only one left. What had happened to the others? Were they being attacked? Were they kidnapped? _Why couldn't she move?_

If only to ease her worry about the others, the door opened and in walked Killian, his gaze going directly to her like it was a routine and when he realized she was awake his face broke out in strong emotion as he ran to her side.

"Emma," Killian said in a whisper as he crouched next to her.

She had so many questions, she was freaking out about not being able to move anything besides her head. She tried to talk but her throat was so dry, "_I_—_Kil_—I"

He looked so worried, but he immediately grabbed a cup of water from the side of the bed. As he brought it towards her, Emma realized just how thirsty she was. She felt like she had gone months without a drink, perhaps even suffered in a desert without any reprieve. She was so eager for the drink and desperate for it that she tried to sit up but all she could despairingly manage was to raise her head off the pillow only slightly, and even that was a huge strain. He gently slid his hook behind her head and lifted her head up further as he poured the drink into her mouth. She gulped at it greedily and chased after the cup, not caring that some of it ran down her chin.

As soon as she was done, though her thirst wasn't even close to being quenched, she quickly spat out her problems, talking fast, panic in her eyes and fear in her voice as she stuttered out, "I-I can't move. I can't move. I try to move, but I can't. Killian, why can't I move? _Why can't I move?_"

Her voice had risen higher and higher as she begged him for an explanation, for some answers. She'd grab him by his jacket and shake him desperately, but she couldn't. She lied still, looking at him with pleading eyes because that's all she could do.

"Shh, Emma," Killian soothed, her pain reflected in his eyes. He stroked the hair out of her face so gently almost like he was afraid to break her. Somehow his touch helped; it made her feel a little better. "You were poisoned with mermaid venom; the after effects of that and the antidote are what's keeping you from moving."

"This isn't permanent? I'm not paralyzed?" Emma asked tentatively, afraid of the answer.

"No, you're not paralyzed. You are going to be fine," Killian assured her, still caressing her hair. Only then did her panic subside and her anxieties start to dwindle. "Do you want to sit up? I can help you up."

"Yes," she nodded furiously, groaning and regretting the quick motion immediately as it made her head spin and pound. She really should examine and determine all of her injuries before trying anything else.

She looked back to Killian expectantly—she really didn't want to be lying down any longer. He grabbed two more pillows from a bureau to place behind her, and she watched him intently as he moved. Now her worries were paused for a moment and she could really look at him and observe him.

He looked more ruffled than usual and there were bags under his eyes. The bags were something she could recognize as signs of restless sleep or lack of sleep in general; she'd looked in the mirror too many times to not be able to identify those bags. He seemed paler, blanched of his color. Without warning her stomach knotted and she was suddenly very worried about him.

"Are you okay?" She asked concernedly. Oddly enough, she didn't feel out of place to be concerned about him; she didn't feel weird worrying about him. Their relationship had grown so much in Neverland—surprisingly she was willing to admit it. Their relationship was something she appreciated a lot and valued much more than she thought possible; there was no denying that. Of course neither of them said any of this to each other; neither confessed the depths of their connection. It might have seemed like lighthearted and inconsequential banter to everyone on the outside, but they both knew better. They both knew better than to confront it as well.

He let out a chuckle, staring at her with incredulous awe, "I'm fine, now."

Emma wanted to ask what he meant by "now" and why he wasn't before, but the conversation was cut as Killian loomed over her, the pillows in his hand. A characteristic grin spread across his face, somehow reassuring her more than his words that he was fine.

"We're going to be close now, love. Don't get too frustrated that you can't act on your impulses," he said cheekily. He sobered a bit as he added, "If it hurts as I'm moving you, say something and I'll stop."

"Okay," she said, appreciating the concern in his eyes. A bit to her chagrin, it made her stomach flutter—and Emma Swan did not do "butterflies". There was always a weird feeling when someone actually showed concern for her.

He bent down towards her, slipping his arms beneath hers and pulling her close like in an embrace. Though she couldn't move, she was acutely aware of his touch and the feel of his body pressed to hers. She sucked in air sharply; her chest was insanely sore and the cuts that scattered her body were stretched to create a sting.

He quickly looked at her, halting his movements, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she answered quickly, "I'm okay."

He stared at her skeptically, but proceeded to move her after a few seconds. Her face was against his shoulder and she breathed in his scent, the sea and rum mixed with a manly musk that soothed her like no other smell could. Almost imperceptibly, she nuzzled against him, but he most definitely noticed, she could tell in the way that his shoulders tensed just the slightest. Both of them said nothing; both were afraid to break the moment.

Emma could feel him moving the pillows behind her to get it situated for her and she didn't say anything when he kept holding her even after the jostling movements ended. She played ignorant just as he had when she nuzzled him—ignorance seemed to be a key role in their relationship. It was like he didn't want to let her go just yet, holding her longer than necessary. As soon as the thought flitted through her mind, he gently laid her back down onto the pillows, placing her into a sitting position.

"Thank you," she breathed out in a sigh of relief and closing her eyes for a second, feeling slightly more abled now she wasn't lying down. "Mermaid's venom? How did I get stuck with mermaid's venom?"

Killian looked at her, eyes narrowed, "You don't remember anything?"

"I remember going out on the island to search for clues with you, but that's about it," Emma said, neglecting to mention the brief vision of him looming over her with water dripping from him. No, that wasn't important or relevant for him to know.

"I'll tell you what happened, but not right this second. I'm going to get you some more water and then tell your charming parents that you're awake. If they find out I've kept the information from them too long, they might bloody well kill me."

She couldn't help but chuckle at that because that was just so much like her parents. A glorious smile lit up his face, reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners just enough to let her know it was genuine. There was such adoration in his gaze, she suddenly felt vulnerable and exposed, her laughter coming to an awkward end. He had the courtesy to look away and go fetch her water. After that, he left to retrieve her parents.

* * *

Once her parents rushed into the room, it was very stuffy with emotion and tears. The tears were mostly Snow's but Emma could see David's eyes start to sparkle with the light caught them just right. They hugged her and explained how worried they were about her and how happy they were that she was okay. Realizing that she couldn't even hug them back made her feel completely useless. Killian returned after a while, obviously waiting to not intrude in family moments.

Emma listened intently as he explained what happened. How she'd fallen into the bay, how she was pulled under by mermaids, how he dove in after her, and how they'd given her the antidote. He was playing most of it off, but Emma could tell by his rigid posture and tense jaw that he was deeply affected by what happened. Just relaying the story seemed to trigger some type of intense emotion in him.

"So how long have I been out then?" Emma asked, trying to gauge how much time she'd lost—well, relatively speaking because Neverland didn't like to follow regular time rules. Snow and David exchanged nervous glances and Killian suddenly found something rather interesting to look at on the floor. Now she was worried.

"How long has it been?" Emma asked again, more sternly this time. She looked at Killian knowing that he wouldn't lie; he'd give it to her straight. He finally looked up from the floor and met her gaze, and he seemed to answer more out of resignation rather than a need to be honest.

"Well, love, you've been out for about two weeks," Killian answered slowly.

"_Two weeks?!_" Emma screeched in shock. Her stomach dropped and there seemed to be too much in her system. She felt acid and bile trying to come up to her throat. Suddenly it was hard to get air and she was breathing much too quickly.

Snow placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. "You're fine, though."

Emma looked at her incredulously. "Yes, I'm fine, practically paralyzed, but fine. I don't care about myself, what have you done about Henry? You've still looked for him, right? He was in the area, please tell me you didn't waste time moping about me."

Snow withdrew her hand looking hurt; Charming's hand subtly went to her backside to soothe her. Emma didn't have it in her to feel guilty about it, though. Henry's life was at stake and they shouldn't waste time on her. She wasn't worth a damn, but Henry was. Henry was everything.

"Emma, we did continue the search for Henry, but they're already gone from this area," Snow said, looking at her daughter with pleading eyes, pleading her to understand. "I understand that you're just thinking of your child, but you're _our_ child. Of course we were worried about you."

"I know," Emma said quietly. "Once I'm able to move, we're going out right away."

Before Snow or Charming could politely explain that it wasn't the best idea, Killian said firmly, "No you won't. You will need time to recover, yet."

He was still rigid, anger in his stiff jaw. He was sitting up straighter now, his mind set to something. He was angry about something, but Emma couldn't worry about his feelings at the moment. She started to stubbornly protest "No, I have to go—"

"This isn't a bloody debate," Killian stood as he spoke, and undercurrent of fury in his voice. "You can't get out of this. It will take you time to recover. We will continue to search for Henry but you will stay and rehabilitate until you are better, however long it takes. What's the point of you finding Henry is you can't actually help him? You can't help him if you're dead, Emma."

For once, Emma Swan was shocked into silence. Charming and Snow remained quiet as well, looking at Killian with wide eyes. She narrowed her eyes and set her jaw, but that was all she could manage. She wanted to yell and scream at him. She wanted to explain that he could not tell her what to do. She'd do as she damn well please. Her mouth stayed shut, not a sound or breath escaping her.

It was the passion and protective edge that muted, stunning her. She was aware that he cared about her, but this was a fierce protectiveness that shook her. She wasn't accustomed to being cared about, let alone so much. Her eyes followed him as he stormed out of the room without another word.


End file.
